The Sentinels When the tequila runs out

She combed the beach absently, not really searching for anything in particular. Her stomach pinched with hunger but Sharkbait didn't bother trying to find food. She just wandered the shore, keeping back from the water but staying near enough to let the pounding surf soothe her restless spirit somewhat. The juvenile didn't particularly notice when the horizon darkened, the breeze picked up and the waves became choppy. But when the first rumble of thunder sounded from out over the open ocean, Sharkbait nearly jumped out of her skin and dropped into a fearful, quavering crouch.

She sent a wide-eyed glance over her shoulder. She had wandered quite far to the west and Skellige's den was so far away that she couldn't see it from here, even if she squinted. Her head snapped upward toward the ominous heavens and then to the left, where a line of trees seemed to beckon her toward their shelter. She clenched her toes in the sand and scrambled in that direction, aware of the scent markers that filled her nose as she sought refuge in the forest. She didn't (couldn't?) let it stop her from finding someplace to hide from the storm blowing swiftly inland.

In the gathering gloom, Sharkbait spotted a tree with a seam in the trunk, just wide enough for a small wolf like herself to slip into the hollowed interior. She leaped toward it, wedging herself into the small space and accidentally bumping her head against the low ceiling. A small grunt of pain escaped her as Sharkbait twisted, her back pressing against the damp wood as her big blue eyes peered outward to anxiously observe the encroaching sea squall.

deirdre had been nearby, the impending storm putting her on high alert. the wind was in larkspur's favor, and so deirdre hadn't the slightest idea the other had trespassed. no, it was purely coincidence that brought her to the very same tree that larkspur was within--and when deirdre entered it, a frightened, defensive snarl erupted from her throat! firstly, the scent of the bay entered her nose, and she calmed--secondly, the vision she beheld was beautiful and familiar both, and deirdre softened. larkspur! my darling, she greeted, her tail waving behind her. you should have called! you frightened me so, came her gentle reprimand, her tail lashing behind her. trespassers were deserving of, well, she was not sure! she had never come across one in her lifetime, except for the one that had tried to kill her--but before her was no killer, but a frightened girl, and so deirdre was uncertain.

The air grew nearly as dark as night, especially with the surrounding trees casting everything into deeper shadows. When lightning glistered through the roiling skies, it lit up everything in sharp relief and caused Sharkbait to swallow and press even closer to the back of the hollow tree. She was too busy watching (and being frightened by) the light show to see the pale figure moving toward her along the forest floor and she initially mistook the snarl of surprise for another guttural thunderclap.

But then someone was speaking to her in a soft voice and Sharkbait blinked as a pale face loomed in the little entryway, peering in at her. The word "Larkspur" triggered a flood of that homesick feeling that was now nearly as familiar as the anxiety that hung around the youth's neck like a yoke. She still didn't have a name or explanation for it. Nor could she figure out why this stranger was speaking to her with such warmth and familiarity so soon after growling at her or why her presence seemed to loosen the knot of anxiousness in her chest rather than tighten it.

"Who," she began, her throat dry and her voice a little raspy from lack of use these past few weeks. She stopped, then tried again, "I don't..." I don't know you, she meant to say, yet the words rang absolutely false in her head and heart. Sharkbait squinted, feeling something worming in her chest, but she couldn't quite grasp it.

it was the way that larkspur looked at her that frightened her. it was distant, and lacking all of the love and warmth it had held but a few short days ago when she had come to see pippin! deirdre feared it might have been as a result of her spell; sometimes, when one thing was found another was lost--perhaps she had asked for too much, she realized, and not offered enough earnest and thankful platitudes!

it is i, deirdre, she breathed, willing the other to remember her. your best friend--why, you were here, just the other day, her words were gentle, not at all urgent or forceful. she blamed herself for the others lack of memory; but she would return it to her! she waited to see if, perhaps, it was the storm that had shocked the others memory to forgetting.

The name, Deirdre, rung as distantly familiar but of course Sharkbait couldn't place it, just like shouldn't place anything. A sense of frustrated impotence swelled in her small breast and she continued to squint, willing comprehension to dawn. It did not. A peal of thunder exploded directly overhead, causing the forest to shudder and Sharkbait to tremble even as she mouthed the words, Best friend?

Feeling all at once empty and overwhelmed, Sharkbait couldn't help it; she began to cry, keening along with the sounds of the rising winds outside. "I don't... I don't..." she stuttered, subconsciously creeping forward until her face was pressed into Deirdre's white chest. "I don't remember anything," she sobbed into the warm, soft fur there, twitching as yet another cannonade vibrated around them.

deirdre welcomed the other into her arms, embracing her and letting her tears fall onto her thickly-furred chest; it was as though she wore a cowl, so thick was the fur becoming in preparation for the impending winter! the words were wept in a panic, and deirdre kissed the others forehead. you are my larkspur, she soothed, this i know--for when you did remember yourself, this was what you had told me. i am here for you--breathe, she instructed, not wanting the other to let anxiety grip her in this meeting. you smell of the bay, our neighbors and allies. what is it you do remember? she imagined that the bay was keeping her safe and well-fed, for she did not look starved, as the girl sought to remember herself. what surprised her was that skellige had not called her for this, for her forgetting!, though perhaps it was only now that larkspur realized that something was awry. she trusted the inky leviathan, and did not suspect foul play.

Although the kiss comforted her on one level, the press of lips reminded Sharkbait of the earlier impact of her skull with the low bark ceiling. It ached tenderly but she ignored it, drawing comfort from Deirdre even if the storms both inside and outside her quivering golden body left her feeling wrung out and disoriented. She drew in a long, shuddering breath when instructed to do so, both the command itself and its execution soothing her somewhat. Slowly, she drew away to look into Deirdre's pale face, tears streaking her own fair cheeks.

"I don't..." she said yet again, then shook her head lightly. She stopped that almost immediately, as it gave her a headache. "I was on a beach," Sharkbait recollected the first thing she could remember, which was very little. "Daddy and Amayo helped me." Her bottom lip quivered. That title ("daddy") felt wronger every day, even if the Leviathan and Atoll took care of her. "But," she continued, tears wobbling on her eyelids before falling, "it's wrong. I don't want to bathe in blood. I don't want to feed the sharks."

Unaware of how insane that might sound, Sharkbait began crying harder again and this time mashed her face into the side of Deidre's swan-like neck. She clearly didn't know herself, yet this young woman did know her. Perhaps she could remind her of herself somehow. Best friend, the crying youth thought dimly in the back of her mind, a foreleg coming up to circle one of the other female's elbows as Sharkbait clung to Deirdre.

Yet another boom of thunder wracked the stormy air. This time, it not only caused the Benthos's stomach muscles to jump in alarm, it made her head suddenly start pounding fiercely. Or perhaps it was just the crying. Or the earlier bump. Whatever the cause, a small wail escaped her lips as more of Sharkbait's weight leaned into her companion.

so, the golden girl had awaken upon the beach. your father, she tilted her head, knowing the name, mordecai? she had requested his name the last time they had met; for he knew her name, by the grace of larkspur, but she had not known his! i do not know amayo, she admitted begrudgingly. but she was sure that skellige would introduce her; skellige would know more of this than she did, she presumed. the continuation of her loved ones words caused her to frown, deeply, though this did not mar her beauty any.

easy, my sweet friend! who has asked you to do these things? who has said that you would feed the sharks? were they nightmares, or were they truth? larkspur's weeping wounded the other, and deirdre hugged her friend with a gentle, but devoted, firmness. her foreleg was wrapped around the others withers, so that the other could easily find comfort around her chest and throat.

deirdre sighed. your mind has left you. you come to me when you lose things--i help you find them. i will return your mind to  you, deirdre promised, for i am a witch, and i have this power! but i must caution you--you may yet lose something else, in the spells afterglow, it had happened, before; perhaps the cost of finding mordecai had been the loss of pippin. perhaps the spell cast for pippin had resulted in the loss of larkspur's mind. deirdre would set things to rights; she would return each lost thing to where it rightly belonged!

Hearing Mordecai's name sent a funny warmth shooting down Sharkbait's spine, making her forget her growing headache. Nonetheless, she pursed her lips and said, "No, daddy... Skellige..." Yes, something about all of this felt not only wrong but decidedly backward. She blinked moisture from her eyes even as she kept her face pressed close to Deirdre's dampened neck.

In response to her companion's question about sharks, the youth pressed her eyes closed a moment and murmured simply, "Sharkbait." That was what they called her; that was her name. Wasn't it? But Deirdre had called her something else: Larkspur. The nostalgic sensation grew inside her, seeming to fill all the voids with a bittersweet ache. And still she could remember nothing but the days since the beach.

Deirdre said that her mind had left her and Sharkbait could only nod in agreement, her cheek rubbing their pale fur into a warm friction. She ceased movement when the pain in her head went up a notch in response. "A witch?" she breathed against the young woman's neck. She heeded the warnings about power, loss and afterglow in speechless, teary silence as the thunder began to ebb.

the name rang like a bell within her. it resounded in her heart as the bright tone changed to a heavy toll. she knew this man; adored him. skellige, she repeated, her tone warm and rich with feeling, he has been treating you well--he is acting as a father might toward you? it was clarification she sought, but she did not press the other aggressively. her tongue moved to press comfortingly and in a nursing fashion against larkspur's temple, but if she was resisted she would not force the soothing gestures. deirdre then nuzzled into the other so that her furs could be used for the other to lean into as larkspur had been doing all along.

sharkbait. spoken like a moniker. deirdre had been warned, by lasher, of the oceans predators; whales of black and white, fearsome and beautiful both, and sharks, who came to wolves when their blood lured them, or else the blood of anything else in the shore-waters. hunting brought them to deeper waters, but it was best to be wary. the ocean was mysterious and deep, as dangerous as it was beautiful. and did they threaten to bathe you in blood? she asked, her mind drifting and unable to fathom it. but the girl before her was so honest and true! she could sense no deceit here, and so listened attentively.

a witch, she confirmed, i will do a spell for you; the moon tonight is waning gibbous, the moon of revelations. should my magick work, you will soon be seized again by your true self, she spoke with conviction, the words themselves a sphere of passionate energy that she pressed, with her charcoal-lined lips, against the temple of her loved friend.

Sharkbait considered the question a moment before nodding subtly. The Leviathan and his attentive Atoll did look after her well enough, even if there was always a sense of something amiss. She believed they were who they said they were—her father and den mother—but there was a disconnect. With her broken mind, she couldn't possibly fathom the depth and breadth of their deceit, nor even really begin to comprehend it. She only sensed something wasn't right, though it went no further than that.

When asked if she had been threatened, Sharkbait's whole body stilled. "They wanted me to... to smear the blood all over myself, like they did," she explained after drawing in a steadying breath, her golden furs prickling automatically when a bolt of lightning split the sky, visible even in their makeshift shelter. The rain arrived simultaneously, with a gusty whoosh, a breeze swirling into the hollow tree and tousling her pelt even more. "I ran away," she added softly, finally leaning away from Deirdre again.

She peered into that pretty, enchanting face as Deirdre described her intentions. The sense of comradeship, inexplicable familiarity and lack of tension made Sharkbait trust her, even if she might as well have been speaking in a foreign tongue. "Okay," she breathed, heart skipping a beat at the notion of being able to remember herself. Her companion spoke with a conviction that warmed her blood and made her feel hopeful for the first time in recent memory.

whose blood, she asked, gently, wondering if it might have been the blood of a wolf, and considered the reasons they would do this. perhaps larkspur herself would know, and why did they do this? she had not heard of this sort of worship, and so this was not one of the thoughts that occurred to her. when the rain began to fall, so too did larkspur's admission that she had fled their company. they will seek you, she predicted, looking out of the hollow tree. i would advise you let them know you are alright--if you wish to stay there, you may, but you are also welcome to stay here, with me. i do not think they would begrudge you this, she hummed, thinking idly of aria. it would perhaps be wise to inform her mother that she was well, and deirdre would do this when she was able.

i know your mother must be longing for you. do you want for me to retrieve her...? i do not want to overwhelm you, she exhaled a warm breath, watching her best friend, feeling for her! that she had lost her memory... to forget it all... deirdre, even when in great pain, had never wished to forget!

When asked about the source of the blood, Sharkbait thought of those little bodies on the beach. They hadn't been wolves, nor did she know what they were called, but they had struck her as strangely familiar. Unable to answer, she simply shrugged and shook her head as if to say, I don't know. She repeated the action when asked why they'd undergone this ritual. She couldn't hope to understand their ways, despite having evidently grown up in the culture. Somewhere deep inside of her, she suspected she hadn't, although it was a subconscious suspicion and nothing more.

Deirdre pointed out that Skellige and his wolves would come for her if she didn't return. She hadn't thought that far ahead yet but was suddenly pressing against her friend more tightly than ever. "I want to stay with you," she cried out softly. The Leviathan was her father (supposedly) and both he and Amayo had treated her well but it was less about them and much more about Deirdre. Sharkbait could not honestly say she remembered her but now that they'd run into each other, she was extremely reluctant to leave her.

For this reason, she only blinked in reply to Deirdre's next question. Between this inquiry and prior mention of Mordecai's name, it was beginning to sink in that Skellige and Amayo were nothing more than makeshift caretakers, that there was so much more to the story that they weren't telling her. But Deirdre would shed light on all of it, she realized. And of course she would want to go to her mother, whoever she was, but Sharkbait surely wouldn't even recognize her. That thought slithered through the pit of her belly like a dead snake.

"Can—" she began, struggling to find her voice again. She paused, quietly cleared her throat and tried again. "Can we do the spell first? So... I remember...?" the child pleaded, the rush of rain practically drowning out her low voice. Her head and heart pounded in unison in the breathless rush that followed her question.

deirdre nodded. then you shall, and she would take this up with both aria and constantine, when the rain cleared and after speaking with skellige so that he was informed, too. he was a good man, to care for the cub as he had; though the moniker was strange, she did not think the man to be a creative one, and to name the girl after a flower--which the girl reminded deirdre of, sweet and pretty as she was!--did not seem his way at all. but he had kept her darling friend in good health, and this mattered greatly do deirdre. larkspur was afraid, but not beaten or harmed.

deirdre blinked at the inquiry, and then nodded. deirdre rose to all fours, removing herself fluidly from the others embrace. she grabbed rocks she kept in the dens corner, each colorful and lovely. among them was the gift larkspur had given to her some time ago, which she looked at for a moment, before circling her friend and depositing the rocks down one at a time in a circle around her. there were five stones, and the fifth she placed within the very center, where she sat alongside the honeyed woman. the place was already cleansed; deirdre had anticipated to a different sort of spell during the storm, but did not mind to do this one.

in the ancient language she and the mayfairs shared, she summoned the elements. as she called to water, she felt the rain brought in by a whipping wind. the den felt warmer as she called to fire, and a particularly fierce wind blew into the hollow as she called to it! the earth trembled beneath them as she called it, though this was more likely due to the rolling thunder from the storm that drew nearer by the moment. and spirit, spirit filled her, invigorated her! she drew herself taller, her bearing regal and indomitable as the witch stood strong at the center.

she looked to larkspur with new eyes, fierce and strong but no less warm and loving. the witch was here, embracing her power, and leaves gusted into the hollow and clung to her furs. she felt the moon above them, unseen in the hollow, but a shard of its light illuminated the mouth of the place they lingered in.

do not break the circle, she instructed, before she began.

deirdre chanted, assuredly, lovingly, and in command: tine, sruthán trí na bacainní a caitheadh nuair a thabharfar an aigne! uisce, iompar na smaointe go tapa ar ais tríd na línte ceart! gaoithe, a thabhairt ar ais go dtí a méid a bhí caillte i am! cré, coinnigh í bunaithe ionas nach ndéanann sí a chailleadh cad a dhéanann sí a aimsiú; spiorad, urghabháil di go tapa, agus ansin an ceangal! the winds howled outside, and the lightning flashed and flickered; the rain began to pour, and deirdre's eyes cast to the girl before her. so mote it be, she spoke in time with the thunder, her voice pure and unfettered power; she looked away, thanking the elements ardently, each of them, before she closed the circle.

it might take time, she whispered to larkspur, continuing the process of finishing the work she had done.

The honey-colored youth watched in silence as Deirdre made preparations. She scooted as far back as she could to make room, eyes watching as the witch set out stones. She did not recognize the gift she had once given her best friend, though the sense of anticipation was faintly familiar. It was as if she knew what was coming next, even though she couldn't have said what. When she realized Deirdre was trying to form a circle, she scooted again, accidentally bumping her head once more on the low ceiling and wincing at the pain that shot through her skull.

Suddenly, the sound of the rain beating down all around them made her head hurt all the worse. It was unbearable, excruciating. And then Deirdre began chanting. Her voice was soft and lilted, though it made Sharkbait's temples throb painfully enough that her lips parted and a moan wrenched free. Another followed it when the world seemed to shudder and howl all around them. Despite the now blinding agony and the fear worming in her belly, Sharkbait leaned into that familiar warmth, eyes closing and remaining that way when everything fell into a sudden hush.

The rainstorm had ended abruptly, as had Deirdre's spell, or at least that's what Sharkbait thought initially. But then all awareness faded absolutely as her slender body slumped against her friend's, then slipped to the floor. Her eyes reopened only to roll back in her head, her limbs twitching and jerking as her tongue accompanied a dribble of foamy spittle out of her mouth. Her jaw then went rigid and her teeth cut into the meat of her tongue, drawing blood as the little girl seized there on the damp floor of the tree hollow.

deirdre turned when hearing a small ruckus being caused, and watched as her friend seized. her words had been brought to literal form, and deirdre marveled at the power she held and the favor she must hold for her work to be done so swiftly! surely, this was what was occurring! deirdre smelt the scent of blood, and was quick to move the other onto her side, and gentle, too; there was a frothy, saliva-like liquid that came from the others lips, and deirdre would not let the girl choke on it. on her side, her beloved would be safe!

deirdre was attentive and observant, prepared to be of aid should the other snap to from her quaking. she could only watch, helpless, and pray--pray that the wall would be burnt, pray that the memories moved across the proper lines, pray that each element would do her bidding and that when the other roused, she would be larkspur again, returned to her! that the eyes that would look to her would be filled with knowing and love, that deirdre would be the stranger no more.

She didn't (couldn't) put up any resistance as Deirdre gingerly rolled her onto her side to prevent her from choking or swallowing her own tongue. Sharkbait continued to seize, her limbs making muffled thumping noises as her muscles convulsed out of her control. Pink saliva drooled from her maw, which opened and closed spasmodically, but her airways remained clear thanks to her companion's quick thinking.

The seizure lasted about three minutes total, then she went suddenly limp, wet cheek lolling against Deirdre's nearer paw. She moaned slightly, eyelids fluttering, but Sharkbait did not rouse. She remained unconscious, extremely vulnerable and at the witch's mercy even as she dreamed vividly again of the Ostregas back in the paradise of Lost Creek Hollow.

deirdre waited until the girl stilled to feel her, and then, care for her. she was quick to remove the saliva from the outer edges of her lips, and then moved to cool her body and cleanse it with her tongue. the girl then lay down next to larkspur to sleep beside her, thinking, for the moment, that exhaustion had taken its toll and that larkspur would wake by the time morning came again.